


Lights Will Guide You Home

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: First Time, Friendship, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accidental espionage, heartache, and a way back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Will Guide You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Although I don't consider this a true alt timeline (and have not tagged it as such), please be warned that you might hurt your brain if you try to make this work with canon. The title comes from lyrics to Coldplay's "Fix You."

Mikado doesn't mean to spy on his best friend, he really doesn't. A burst of anger catches his attention: he can't make out the words but the emotion of the sounds carries to him and he has his hand on his phone, ready to send a mass text if necessary, when he recognizes Masaomi—and then Izaya. Mikado doesn't move any closer but he also doesn't walk away; he just stands there, and it's only by coincidence that he's hidden from their view when he freezes.

He's only there for a few moments when Izaya, laughing, starts walking off in the opposite direction. Mikado has the glimmer of a suspicion that Izaya somehow knows he's there, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it because Masaomi raises his voice enough for the words to carry clearly, even though his voice is shaking, as he shouts after Izaya, "I'm done with you, you hear me? We're through! We're DONE!"

Izaya's laughter echoes even after his footfalls have faded. And then even that goes quiet. Masaomi sighs with his whole body, then walks off, too.

Since Mikado is not spying, he doesn't follow. He doesn't go home, though. He decides to walk around for a while, not going anywhere, just wandering the city, wandering the night. He wants to be surprised at what he's just witnessed, but he's known for a while there was something going on between Masaomi and Izaya; there was something in the way Masaomi told him to keep away from Izaya that marked Izaya differently from everyone and everything else Masaomi told him about. So Mikado has been making observations and he kind of knows, he pretty much figured that Masaomi and Izaya were—that they were something that made it important for Mikado to keep his feelings to himself.

Whatever they were, they aren't anymore, or at least Masaomi believes that. Or at least that's what Masaomi wants to believe. Or anyhow, it's what he's saying.

After an hour or so, Mikado starts to look for Masaomi. When he realizes it would take another coincidence to come across Masaomi again tonight and that there are only so many coincidences held within a single night, Mikado texts him.

The address Masaomi sends him turns out to be a park. A closed park—but since that didn't stop Masaomi, Mikado can't let it stop him. He finds Masaomi on the swings, right where he said he'd be. Masaomi looks up at the sound of footsteps and raises a hand in greeting.

"Hey," Mikado says, slowing as his feet hit sand.

"Hey." Masaomi tilts up to meet Mikado's eyes. He wraps his hand back around the chain of the swing, legs stretched out in front of him, heels resting lightly in the sand. Mikado sits in the swing next to him and tries an experimental pump with his legs, but even though the seat of his swing is higher off the ground than Masaomi's, he still has to splay his legs instead of tucking them under on the backstroke, so it's hard to get momentum.

"Want me to push you?" Masaomi offers.

"That's okay," Mikado says, letting his heels drag through the sand as he halts. He thinks about asking Masaomi about Izaya or at least asking if Masaomi is all right. "Feel like coming over tonight?" he says instead.

Flashing a wide grin, Masaomi springs up. He turns around to grab the seat of the swing, pulls back, and gives it a hard, empty push before he shoves his hands into his pockets and falls into step with Mikado. The jangle of chains follows after them, fading with distance.

 

Two weeks go by. They don't talk about anything out of the ordinary; they don't talk about _that_ , until one time when Masaomi says out of nowhere, "You know, huh?" and Mikado knows he's talking about Izaya. He doesn't know how Masaomi knows he knows, except that Mikado thinks Izaya knows that Mikado knows. So he figures Izaya must have told Masaomi. Mikado doesn't really want to think about what that might mean. All he does is nod, and Masaomi nods, too, and then Masaomi asks if he wants to go get ice cream, so that's what they do.

It's been two weeks and Masaomi has been at Mikado's every night. The past few days, Mikado hasn't even had to ask; Masaomi has just come over. He doesn't have to offer to share the futon anymore, either; Masaomi just slips in. Last night, Masaomi didn't even hover on the edge like he might fall off, and Mikado is relieved to see his friend starting to feel comfortable again.

Masaomi doesn't hover tonight, either. When Mikado flicks off the light and climbs in, he feels the covers move as Masaomi rolls and settles.

Mikado is drifting, drifting, he's almost drifted off—when he feels the covers move again. Feels them lift, feels a hand between the sheet and his body, reaching around.

Mikado holds his breath. He doesn't know if Masaomi knows he's awake. He isn't sure why Masaomi is touching his cock; and he isn't sure he cares why. He wants to keep his eyes closed and let Masaomi touch him, let himself be touched by Masaomi—

"Masaomi~" He lets out his breath with the word. Breathing again, he half turns, looks over his shoulder in the dark; somehow he knows he wouldn't be meeting Masaomi's eyes even if he could see them. "Don't." He swallows. "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah," Masaomi replies, and Mikado can hear a smile curving up around the edges of the words. "But I want to. Okay?"

It's been a while since Mikado has seen Masaomi smile. Really smile. He wants to touch Masaomi's lips, to feel if the smile is truly there.

He swallows again. Nods in the dark. "Okay."

Masaomi adjusts, fitting their bodies together closer. His hand wraps around Mikado's cock and Mikado touches that hand lightly with his fingertips, then lets himself fall away as Masaomi begins to stroke. A wave of pleasure rises to meet him as he falls and he rides it, eyes shut tight, closing out the darkness, closing out everything except the heat of Masaomi's hand.

He feels more than hears his own name, the warmth of Masaomi's breath at his ear as he asks, "Can I turn on the light?"

Mikado nods. He rolls onto his back as Masaomi gets up. Light penetrates Mikado's eyelids but he doesn't open his eyes until he feels Masaomi beside him again. Blinking in the brightness, he asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Masaomi's mouth quirks up. "I just want to look at you. I want you to know I'm looking at you."

Mikado doesn't say anything.

His eyes slide away, still open, just not looking. Then he looks back. Smiles for Masaomi: "It's okay, Masaomi. I don't mind if you want to think about Izaya while we're. You know."

"Yeah, but I mind." Masaomi's voice is soft. "I don't want to do this with anyone who isn't with me, in heart and in body." Neither of them speak. Then Masaomi goes on, soft and steady, "I didn't reach for Izaya tonight. I reached for you." He does it again: reaches out and touches Mikado, touches his face this time. "You, Mikado. Okay?"

"Okay," Mikado says. He breathes and swallows, and when Masaomi touches him and says his name, Mikado says it again, this time with a hint of smile: "Okay."

Masaomi lies down and when he reaches for Mikado's cock again, Mikado rolls to face him and reaches, too. As they start, Mikado's gaze slips from Masaomi's down to his hand on Masaomi's cock; to Masaomi's hand on him. He's had a cock in his hand before, had his hand on a cock that wasn't his, but it was never like this, it was never _Masaomi_.

They stroke in synchronicity until they slip into their own rhythms, finding separate rhythms with themselves and each other. Mikado can't hear anything but his own breathing; he tries to hold it, to listen for Masaomi, but his lungs are insistent, demanding oxygen to feed his blood and its ravenous pulse. Masaomi's doing things with his wrist, with his thumb, and Mikado never thought about jerking off as a competitive sport but Masaomi is really good, he knows things, tricks he's learned, probably from Izaya. He's so fucking cool, that Izaya—bad boy looks, bad boy accoutrements, bad boy lifestyle and the worldliness that goes with it. There's just no way to compete with that guy.

He's not competing now, Mikado lets Masaomi's hand remind him. Not with Izaya, not with anyone. It's just him and Masaomi here now.

Mikado starts to open his eyes when he feels Masaomi's breath, then Masaomi's lips: he opens his mouth for Masaomi's tongue, and as they twine in their first kiss, Mikado comes.

He falls back, not so much trying to catch his breath as waiting for it to come back to him. He looks over at Masaomi, who smiles, and Mikado smiles, too.

A slight, repeated hitching of Masaomi's shoulder draws Mikado's attention down to Masaomi's hand, moving on his still-hard cock. Shifting back onto his side, Mikado reaches for him.

"Wait," Masaomi says, hand on Mikado's wrist to stop him. He looks at Mikado and Mikado waits, and then Masaomi rolls Mikado onto his back again, kisses him again, their bodies moving together, Masaomi's erection rubbing against Mikado, making them sigh into each other's mouths. "Mikado," Masaomi says, raising up to look into Mikado's eyes as he slips his hand between their bodies. "Do you want to?" He moves his hand from his own cock to Mikado's balls, cupping them before a lone fingertip traces back.

Mikado shivers, swallows. "Okay," he says and swallows again.

"Do you want to, though?" Masaomi tilts his head, stills his hand. "I mean, do you want this? 'Cause," he grins now, "It's okay if you want to get me off another way. Or I can do it myself, if you want to watch. I don't mind not fucking. I mean," another flashed grin, "I really like doing it, but," serious once more, "it's not everything."

Maybe Mikado wasn't sure before, but being asked to say no suddenly makes him want to say yes. So he does.

"Okay." Masaomi smiles and kisses him again. "Do you have something we can use?"

"Like a condom?"

"Well, I've tested clean. So, you know, unless there's something you never told me about your past," Masaomi teases with a suggestively arched eyebrow, "I think we're safe."

Mikado returns the grin. "No, there's nothing even close to that."

"Okay, then." Masaomi leans in like he's going to kiss Mikado, then hesitates before their lips touch, glancing at Mikado as the weight of Mikado's confession sinks in. Before Masaomi can have second thoughts, before he can have any himself, Mikado closes the distance, nudging his tongue between Masaomi's lips.

Masaomi's hand lingers at Mikado's nape when they part. "So," he says, continuing the conversation as if it hadn't been interrupted, "what do you use when you jerk off?"

"Ah." Mikado wishes he weren't overcome by a sudden blush, but there's nothing to be done for it except ignore it as best he can. He gets up and rummages in a drawer, returning with a bottle of hand lotion. "Is this okay?"

Masaomi reads the label. "Yeah, I think so. We'll just use a lot." As he slathers it on his own fingers, he asks, "How do you want to be?"

Mikado lies on his back and looks at Masaomi above him. "Like this," he says, canting his legs open, not sure what to do with his arms.

Fingers thoroughly coated, Masaomi moves between Mikado's legs. "Can you open yourself a little more?" he asks as he squeezes another dollop onto his fingertip.

Mikado rolls his hips, shifting his weight toward the small of his back as he cups the backs of his thighs and holds himself open. He wonders if he looks as vulnerable as he feels. "Like this?"

"Are you comfortable?" Masaomi asks. When Mikado nods, Masaomi does, too. "That's perfect, then." His smile makes Mikado smile back and swallow at the same time. Masaomi touches his slicked-up finger to Mikado's hole —not directly to it but rubbing around it first, then brushing across. He drizzles more lotion onto Mikado's skin and Mikado draws in a quick breath at the unexpected coolness, sighs at the heat as Masaomi warms the lotion onto him, into him. For all the slickness, it's more of a push than a slide as Masaomi works his finger back inside Mikado.

"You okay?"

Mikado nods, so Masaomi keeps going, a little deeper, adding a corkscrew twist to the strokes, eliciting more gasps, soft moans. He pulls out to add more lotion, and this time it _is_ a slip in.

"Does it feel good?"

"Feels weird," Mikado says.

"Uncomfortable?" Masaomi asks, stopping the little twisting strokes but leaving his finger inside.

"No," Mikado says. "Just different." Slight roll of his hips. "More, okay?"

And now it's Masaomi who says, "Okay."

The second finger is weird, too, at first, but Masaomi leans down and kisses Mikado as he fingerfucks him and Mikado can feel the thrill in his belly, in his balls; and deeper, feels it in a way he hasn't thrilled before. He lets go of his own leg to reach for Masaomi's cock, thumbing the head, feeling the throb and tremor pass between them; feeling the loss as Masaomi's fingers slip out, clench in his belly and balls as he feels the press and heat of Masaomi at his hole.

"It might hurt the first time."

Mikado eyes Masaomi's cock, sizing it up. "'Might'?" he quotes, eyebrow raised, one side of his mouth quirked up.

Masaomi follows Mikado's apprehensive gaze down to himself. Exhales a chuckle. "You sure know how to flatter a guy." They grin at each other, and then Masaomi's smile fades into seriousness again. "Are you sure you want to? We can still stop here."

"I want to," Mikado says.

Masaomi kisses him again, opens his mouth, licks and caresses and plays. His fingers soothe over Mikado's cock, no longer entirely soft; Mikado's fingers clench around his own thigh. He clenches everywhere as Masaomi pushes in, slow push; clench, and yield, and Masaomi is, oh, oh _fuck_ , inside him.

That first push in is strange, so strange...and then the strange becomes a strange delight...and soon the delight is full, familiar, more. Mikado aches when Masaomi pulls out to slick up with more lotion, aches and surges when Masaomi pushes back in. "Can you kiss me again?" Mikado requests. And Masaomi can, and does.

They kiss; they fuck while kissing; and soon, all too soon, Masaomi arches out of the kissing, pushes deeply into Mikado, and loses himself there.

A deep breath, another, one more; and Masaomi slips out of Mikado. Closing his eyes, he flops onto his back. Mikado props up beside him, touching Masaomi, his chest, his torso, with lazy, casual caresses; Masaomi's hand is quiet on Mikado's arm, only his thumb moving in slow, small circles.

As Mikado is looking at his face, Masaomi opens his eyes. "You can ask, you know," he says. Mikado's mouth comes open, then he closes it again, and Masaomi moves from Mikado's arm to take his hand. "You can ask for anything you want. I'll say yes." He shifts, turns onto his side to face Mikado, letting go of his hand now to rest his own on Mikado's hip so they're mirroring each other. "I would offer, but I want you to ask. I want you to know it's okay to ask for what you want."

Masaomi's looking at him, so seriously, so gently. So openly. So unlike Masaomi; and yet utterly Masaomi. Mikado drops his own gaze. He starts stroking the ridge of Masaomi's hipbone with his thumb; finding reassurance in the touch, he looks up again to meet Masaomi's eyes. "Can I. Do you next time?"

"'Do' me?" Masaomi grins.

Involuntarily, Mikado grins, too. "Um." He shies away, then comes back. "Fuck you?" His eyebrow accompanies his voice up at the end of the sentence, and Masaomi laughs, and kisses him.

"Yes," Masaomi says with his smiling mouth, his smiling eyes.

Mikado smiles, too. He keeps looking, just looking, until Masaomi's smile softens with curiosity at Mikado's gaze, but doesn't fade. Masaomi's smile isn't dazzling or blinding, but Mikado has to look away anyhow.

When he looks back, Mikado does the only thing he can: he kisses the faded smile, feels it open and deepen and swallow him whole.


End file.
